


First Dance

by raskin



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Dancing Lessons, First Dance, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raskin/pseuds/raskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pythagoras isn't interested in dancing.  But then, he never had a partner like Jason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Dance

“I can’t wait till this thing starts!” Jason was leaning out of the window, watching the festival-goers stream towards the city’s square. “Are you about ready?”

“How many times must we go over this?” Pythagoras said with an affectionate laugh. His roommate was so like a little kid, bouncing around in anticipation. “It’s a good hour before it kicks off.”

“Yes, but… We could go down and check out the vendor booths. And the food stalls are already open for business. I can smell the roast lamb from here.” Jason skipped up to the table. Clutching his stomach, he moaned, “Hungry!”

“Your appetite is rivaling Hercules’ recently.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy,” Jason said with mock-petulance. 

“I keep telling you, you must pace yourself. The festival lasts for three days.”

They weren’t invited, of course, to the principle theater productions at the palace, nor the ceremonies at the Temple. But the processions through the streets were spectacles to be enjoyed by the masses. There would also be smaller productions and staged performances for the general citizenry.

“Besides, the dancing doesn’t start until sundown. You keep saying that’s what you’re looking forward to the most.”

It was true. Jason couldn’t wait to get out there and let loose.

It wasn’t going to be anything like the clubs he used to go to in London. No pounding music from a dangerous array of speakers, no mesmerizing lighting effects, no designer drugs or glow sticks. But that didn’t mean it would be provincial and prosaic. Bacchus was a Greek, after all.

“You’re right. Maybe we should sleep the afternoon away, because we are going to dance all night.” 

“You will, maybe. I will be content to watch from the perimeter.”

“No way. You’ll be out there right along with me.”

“I don’t dance,” Pythagoras said simply, and returned to his studies. “Now let me finish this –”

“Wait, what do you mean, you don’t dance? It’s the best thing in the world!” 

His friend's smile was classic Pythagoras, self-deprecating and utterly adorable. “I can’t dance. It’s no problem. Believe it or not, I can still live a fulfilling life without that particular talent.” He didn’t seem bothered.

Jason wasn’t willing to accept it, though. He was appalled, sure in his conviction that his friend didn’t know what he was missing. “Bullshit. Everyone can dance. All you have to do is let yourself go with the music.”

“You probably dance with as much power and grace as you fight or jump bulls. Whereas my feet are as if filled with lead.” Pythagoras twirled the stylus between his fingers, defiantly unconcerned.

"I don't believe you."

Py did his best to glower then. “If you’re going to make a fuss, then I won’t go down there at all. Let it go.” 

“I recognize that it’s your choice, but…”

“It is. Thank you for understanding.”

Just then, as if on cue, a fringe band of musicians began to play a lively folk tune just under their window. Jason took it as a sign.

He grabbed the stylus from Py’s hand and swept up the parchment covering the table. He then went and dumped the lot onto the bed. 

“Hey!” Pythagoras followed him, stubbornly reaching down to gather up his work. “I was in the middle of something. Really close to a breakthrough, if you care.”

“I don’t.” On a whim, Jason grabbed his friend’s wrist and twirled him around in time to the music wafting into their flat. When Py accidentally kicked his shin, Jason didn’t give up. Then Py crushed Jason's instep with a surprisingly heavy foot.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, just let me go.” Py pulled away, embarrassed but also smug for having been proved right. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll admit,” laughed Jason as he massaged his foot, “you will be a challenge.”

Pythagoras's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m going to teach you to dance.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t even care to learn.”

“No. Unacceptable.” Jason wanted his friend to enjoy dancing as much as he did. He’d always found it fun, giving him a sense of euphoria like nothing else. He went over to the table and lifted one end. “Help me move this off to the side.”

Pythagoras frowned but did as his friend asked. “It’s pointless, I’m telling you.”

“And it’s equally pointless to refuse me.” He grinned disarmingly. “Now, stand here.”

Pythagoras groaned but joined Jason in the middle of the room. “You’re one stubborn man, you know that?”

“Only when it matters.” Jason started out by lightly bouncing twice on each foot in time with the music, back and forth. “Now, just do what I do.” 

Pythagoras awkwardly shifted his weight from side to side, his knees stiff and arms dangling. He wasn’t close to matching the beat, and his eyes showed his defeat. “See? I have absolutely no sense of rhythm.”

Jason didn’t want to agree with him, but there was no denying that Pythagoras seemed immune to the pound of the drums. He took Py’s hands and placed them on his shoulders. His own hands he put on Pythagoras’s slim waist. Then he started rocking side to side again. “Maybe you can feel it through me.” 

Pythagoras stood stock still. Consternation showed on his face, and his back tensed up. "Please, I'm begging you..."

“Relax,” coaxed Jason as he stroked up Py’s sides to encourage him. “Try closing your eyes. Just go with the music.”

Py let his eyes fall closed, but he seemed to be holding his hands away from Jason’s shoulders, as if afraid to touch him. “This is _not_ how one dances here in Atlantis,” he protested feebly. His breathing was becoming stilted.

Jason was flummoxed. Why would this little exercise stress his friend out so much? Py was generally easy-going, and seemed able to handle even the most trying situations. Now, though, he was practically trembling beneath Jason’s hands. Instead of letting him go, Jason pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Py’s torso, pressing their bodies together. He could feel Py’s heartbeat against his chest. With patient determination, he finally got them swaying together in synch. The music changed now and again, speeding up, slowing down, from happy to mournful then exuberant. Through it all, Jason held Py against himself and rocked slowly in time with the drums. Eventually, Py became less rigid against him, and stopped fighting it. Sure enough, he seemed to allow his body to slip into the rhythm. They were now moving as one.

Jason had never particularly cared for slow dancing, but this was quite nice. Very nice indeed. It would be a lie to say that he’d never thought about what Pythagoras would feel like in his arms. The slender body fit so well against his own well-muscled frame. He smelled good, too. Jason wouldn’t have minded staying just like this for the rest of the day. Then he felt Py actually lay his cheekbone against his own. “That’s it, Pythagoras, see? Just stop thinking and let yourself feel me.”

This may not have been the best thing to say, or it might have been exactly the right thing, because then Pythagoras sort of whimpered against his ear. Jason was suddenly – acutely – aware of the warm breath against his skin, the fingertips rolling over his shoulder blades, of the press of a thigh against his. The dance was no longer about an innocent release of energy. It was erotic and overwhelming and perfect. 

“Jason,” Pythagoras whispered hoarsely.

How long had Jason wanted this, but never allowing himself to imagine that it would happen? He’d been so careful to control his feelings, to hide his desire. Now, risking everything but unable to stop himself, he kissed the smooth skin of Py’s long neck. The resulting shudder from the slender body in his arms told him all he needed to know. 

The next moment his mouth was on Py’s, gently brushing their lips together. It was heaven, soft and warm and sweet. It might as well be his first kiss ever, it was so novel, so overpowering. Pythagoras’s mouth against his. _Yes!_ With a quick inhale, he pressed in harder, letting his tongue slip out to taste Py's lips.

Pythagoras was feeling it, too. His lips parted to let a broken moan escape, then he eagerly accepted Jason’s tongue inside. Now it was their tongues that were dancing, slipping against each other, licking and probing and tasting. 

It was becoming frantic, their need to meld into each other. Alternating between holding their breath and sucking in air, they twisted their faces this way and that, smashing their noses together and knocking chins. Jason’s hands came up to the sides of Py’s face, holding him steady while he drove in even harder. Py’s knees seemed to buckle, but Jason held him tight. He had no intention of letting him go. He was well aware of his own need, the growing hardness below his waist. He was oh so careful not to let it come into contact with Pythagoras’s body because then, well, there was no hope of controlling himself. Groaning deep in his throat, he forced himself to pull his lips from away from their heaven, and let his head fall to Py’s shoulder.

Pythagoras froze. “Jason?”

“Yes?” Jason whispered somewhat raggedly. He couldn’t lift his face, couldn’t show Pythagoras his expression without revealing all.

“Are you… Was this ok?”

It was a long moment before Jason trusted himself to speak. He was swimming in the after-effects of that kiss, the images and sensations swirling about and drowning him with the wonder of it all. But now he needed to reassure Pythagoras. “Oh, yes. Very, very ok. Worlds of ok.”

Exhaling very slowly, Py rested the side of his head against Jason’s. “An eternity of ok.” 

They began swaying to the music again, neither in any hurry to join the festivities in the city square. The musicians outside their window went through many more songs before Jason finally murmured, "Still say you can't dance?"

"If I'd known it was like this..."

"You're a natural."

"Have a good teacher." Pythagoras whispered, and made no move to end their dance.

All too soon, a blare of horns echoed from every wall of the city, announcing the official start of the celebrations. Jason tightened his arms around Pythagoras. "I'm losing my motivation to check out the festival." 

After a pause, Pythagoras sighed, tickling Jason's ear, and said, "It's a curse, always having to be the voice of reason. But I should point out that this is your first one. You've been looking forward to it for yonks. And it only happens once a year."

"I know," Jason moaned softly against Py's neck, "but..."

"I'll say it one more time. We should pace ourselves. Take things slowly."

Jason's feet stopped moving then. He dropped his arms and seemed to slump a bit. "Yes, of course. You're right." He took a step back, his eyes questioning.

Py leaned in, pressed their foreheads together, and murmured against Jason's lips. "Of course I am. Just as you were right to show me how awesome this dancing thing can be. And we've got the rest of the year to practice it." When he pulled away to return Jason's gaze, he did not even try to mask his feelings, a heady mix of wonder, nervousness and lust.

Jason's jaw dropped a little and his eyes went wide. Way beyond reassured, he was completely bowled over by what he saw in Pythagoras's face. He couldn't believe this was happening. Then he was grinning like a fool. He grabbed Py's hand and headed for the door. "Come on, let's get out there and celebrate."


End file.
